


At his lead

by DracoIgnis, Dragon_and_Direwolf



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Breathplay, Collars, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Drinking, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Hair-pulling, Leashes, Light BDSM, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Smoking, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_Direwolf/pseuds/Dragon_and_Direwolf
Summary: Daenerys has been a bad girl and Jon is the only man who knows how to straighten her out. What kind of punishment will it take before she learns how to behave?
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 29
Kudos: 192





	At his lead

“I hoped you would be home,” Daenerys says as Jon swings open the front door.

Jon is late - _very_ late. His family is expecting him for dinner. He can vividly imagine them; Catelyn and Ned and Arya and Sansa and Robb and Margaery, all huddled up at some _Olive Garden_ downtown. Robb has news. Jon already knows: he helped him pick out the ring. They will cheer with champagne and celebrate, and he will sit through hours of Catelyn’s snide remarks: _when will you settle down?_ He will do it for Robb

\- but he’s in no hurry. So he lingers in the doorway, watching Daenerys as she smiles back at him.

She is gorgeous, Jon thinks, and classy; with her silver locks and gold earrings and red lips and fur coat and black heels. Her nails are red and sharp. They dip into the white pelt collar as she timidly bashes her lashes at him. “Were you heading out?” she asks.

“Yes,” Jon says. He’s in his suit - the black jacket fits tight over his shoulders, and the shirt gnaws at his arms. It is old and small, made for the younger Jon who lazied on the sofa, not the current one who heads to the gym at five in the morning. He’s smart - he’s uncomfortable. Despite the cool October wind, he feels sweat peck at his nape.

“On a date?”

“Dinner with the family,” Jon replies with a wry laugh, followed by: “I’m late.”

“How late can you be?” Daenerys asks. Her nails are dragging down the opening of the coat. As the fur pushes apart, her body is revealed:

sunkissed and freckled, her curves barely contained in the lace lingerie. Her hard nipples peer over the edge of her brassiere. Her pink cunt is visible around the thin fabric of her pants. Jon’s gaze follows the pale tan-line at her hips from where the bikini kept her decent.

Jon licks his lips. He suckles on his teeth. He thinks:

dinner, chatting, snide remarks and dry sarcasm, arguments and apologies, or:

licking and sucking and fucking, the scent of Daenerys in his beard, his cum sweet on her tongue.

Jon steps aside and gestures for her to enter. “I hope the neighbours didn’t see you,” he says, throwing a quick glance across the frosty lawns.

“I hope they did,” Daenerys replies as she brushes past him inside. Her heels click to the wood. Her hair bobs around her head. As he locks the door, she turns to face him, hands in the pockets of her coat, her stance nonchalant. She asks: “How do you want me?” and Jon points to the floor as he gruffly replies:

“Where you belong.” His words stir something in her. He can see how her nostrils flare and her cheeks grow red. She likes when he plays rough.

“You’re in a dominant mood,” she concludes. Her pink tongue darts out to taste her lipstick as Jon leans back against the door.

“You’re in my house,” he replies. His hand caresses his groin as he watches her, his grey eyes dark in the shadows of the hallway. His cock is hard from the mere sight of her. He strokes the shape of his member through his thin slacks as he adds: “So you follow my rules. _Get down.”_

“Yes, Sir,” Daenerys replies cheerily. It could be cheeky - but when she drops to her knees, Jon doesn’t even care to question it. He just watches as she crawls, the toes of her heels scraping to the floor, the white fur of her coat dragging at her sides. Her violet eyes peer up at him through her thick lashes. She doesn’t break eye-contact, not even when she reaches his feet, her hands clutching onto the leather of his shoes, her cheek pressing to the fabric of his trousers. “I have been a bad girl,” she breathes.

“Did you come to get punished?” Jon asks. He reaches down to touch her hair. It is cold from the wind, and stiff with hairspray. When he wraps the locks around his fingers, they snap softly as her hairdo comes apart. Soon, it slippers smoothly across his hand, teasing his senses.

“Mhmm,” Daenerys replies, rubbing her cheek to his leg. “I came to get what I need.”

“And what is that?”

“A lesson in obedience.” Daenerys curves her back and wriggles her arse. It shakes beneath her thick fur coat as she kisses and pecks her way up his clothed shin, his knee, his inner thigh. She stretches her neck. Her lashes brush to his slacks as she whispers: “I have been _very bad.”_

“Tell me what you did,” Jon commands. His fingers twist deeper into her hair as he presses her face flatly to his thigh. Her nose is close to his groin now. He is sure she can smell him; sweat, and sex, the heated throbbing of his cock. But he holds her in place, kneeling and breathing at his slacks, her tongue too short to reach his zipper. _“Tell me.”_

“I was at work,” Daenerys gasps. Her nails claw at his shoes, making the leather groan. “I was meant to do a big presentation. But I couldn’t concentrate. When I stood in front of the board members, all I could think about was you, Jon.”

_“Sir,”_ Jon reminds her, pulling her hair tighter.

Daenerys whines in delight at the dull pain and quickly corrects herself: “Sir! Yes, Sir, I was thinking of you, _Sir._ Of your rough hands and greedy mouth and fat cock.”

Jon’s cock stirs at her words. He takes in a sharp breath as he eyes her, nestled to his leg, completely at his mercy. He tugs at her hair. He leads her face closer to his groin. By the time she’s pressed to the heat of his crotch, he says: “Go on.”

“I went to the toilets,” Daenerys speaks, her words a warm mumble against his member. He can feel her breath through his slacks, and her tongue as she licks the taste of sweat off his crotch, wetting the stretched fabric before her. “I locked myself in a stall, and I pulled down my pants, and I touched myself as I thought about you.” She pauses, peers up at him, her lashes fluttering as she adds: “Sir.”

Jon sees it: Daenerys, on the edge of the toilet, her legs spread, her fingers embedded in the tightness of her cunt. He imagines her teeth gritted to hold back her sounds. He imagines her heels clacking to the stone floor as she comes. He imagines the raw scent of sex that she leaves behind, a mark of her wrongdoings.

As Daenerys starts pecking the shape of his cock, he rocks himself onto her lips and grunts: “That is _very bad.”_ He is warm. He is sweating. He can feel it drip from his neck down his back as he uses Daenerys’ face to make himself moan. Her lips are parted and tongue is greedy for a taste of his length - but it’s the top buttons of his shirt that he pops open, and his tie that he drags loose. The red fabric hangs down his chest as he exposes his pecs. His body is hard and strong, and he can see Daenerys’ gaze slip from his eyes to his abs, the ripples leading her to his navel, the hairline leading her to the top of his belt.

Jon pulls his shirt free of his trousers and lets it hang open as he surveys Daenerys for a second longer. He could stand here for hours, he thinks, just watching his woman ache for his touch. But he forces himself to push her away. “Follow me,” he instructs as he steps past her, but he pauses as she makes a move to get up and reminds her: “You can _crawl.”_ His voice is dark and demanding, and Daenerys peers over her shoulder back at him with an excited nod.

“Yes, Sir,” she replies, and he remains for just long enough to see her breasts sway as she turns on her pink knees. Then, he leaves her to the hallway, entering the living room with brisk steps.

The room is dark. Jon flicks on a single lamp before heading for the cabinet in the corner. He withdraws a bottle of bourbon and a whisky glass. As he tops himself up, he listens to the sounds of her; the creak of wood, the swoosh of her jacket, the pant from her lips, the clacker of her nails. He could fuck her, he thinks - just turn around, grab her by the waist, and slam her to the wall as he claims her body. It would be easy, and she would be willing, her cunt craving his hard hands.

But instead, he takes it slow. He sips his drink. He shrugs out of his jacket. He settles in the soft armchair, bottle on the table, glass in hand, and watches her approach.

The orange glow from the lamp licks at her skin. The cold of the room pecks at her nipples. The rough wood makes her knees and hands blush, almost as much as her cheeks as she scoots her way toward him, her gaze locked on his crotch. “Are you comfortable?” she asks, her voice sultry.

Jon sips his drink. “I will be,” he says, lifting his foot, “when you’ve pulled my shoes off.”

Daenerys bites her lower lip and settles at his feet. It’s with gentle hands that she unties his oxfords and tugs them off - first his right, then his left. As the constraint of the old leather is removed, Jon huffs in relief and stretches his toes.

“Good girl,” he says and beckons her closer with his hand. “Now - my belt.”

Daenerys’ hands are eager, but she holds herself back. She takes her time stroking up alongside his legs, rounding his knees, feeling his thighs. When she dips her fingers in around the buckle, Jon can hear the metal click to her nails. It sends shivers down his spine, and he spreads his legs further, allowing her more space to settle in.

The leather slips free. The belt is dragged from the loops. Daenerys rolls it up and puts it by his shoes, a perfect display of decency. But the look in her eyes is anything but as she watches him, patiently waiting for his next command.

Jon licks the taste of bourbon off his lips as he surveys her. He admires her plump lips. He likes the shape of her narrow neck. He enjoys the depth of her cleavage. He lingers at the hint of pink between her thighs - wet and needy. He reaches down. He undoes the button of his slacks. As his thumb brushes to the zipper, he holds out his hand and says: “Come here.”

Daenerys presses her cheek into his palm and lets him lead her. She is guided to his crotch, her teeth closing at the zipper, her lips tugged back as she pulls it down, her hands kept dutifully at her sides. His bulge is revealed; heavy, and full, the grey cotton stretched over the throbbing girth of his cock. There is a dampness where precum has leaked. He leads her greedy lips to it and lets her suck up the taste of him.

“Ah, fuck,” Jon groans. It’s not just the feeling of Daenerys’ little tongue that makes his heartbeat quicken. It’s the sight of her, pretty and pure, all dolled up for his pleasure. As she kisses her way up the length of his member, he pushes his hands back into her hair and messes up her curls.

“It’ll be hard to brush out,” Daenerys warns him.

Jon wraps the silver around his hand and tugs her head back. She gasps as her neck is exposed and her eyes are forced to look up at him. “Should I care?” he asks, leaning forward, his shadow falling across her frame. He is close - so close, in fact, that his harsh breath tickles her cheeks.

Daenerys shakes her head. “No, Sir,” she whispers, her voice dripping with excitement, “no, you should not.”

“Correct,” Jon agrees, and he pushes her head back onto his groin as he sinks into the armchair once more.

For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room are from Daenerys as she licks and kisses and sucks her way around Jon’s bulge. Her breath and spit wets him. Her hands on his legs reminds him of her cravings; from the way her nails pull at his trousers, eagerly dragging the fabric down his legs, inch by inch. By the time his slacks rest at his knees, he pulls her back by the hair as he kicks them off.

“Greedy girl,” he says. It just makes her smile. Her lipstick is on his boxers, and on her chin. He drags his thumb across her face as he wipes it off, then sticks it into her mouth. “Suck,” he instructs, and she does, her mouth tightening around his thumb and her tongue dragging across it. She does a good job at making him wet and slick. By the time he pulls back, her drool hangs on, snapping only when he reaches down to pinch her nipples.

“Ah, fuck!” Daenerys straightens up at the pain, pushing her breasts closer to Jon’s rough hands. It hurts, he can tell, and it feels good - he can see her want in the way her lashes bash and her hands claw at her legs, her nails edging closer to her cunt. “Ah _fuck.”_

“I like when they’re stiff,” Jon says, reaching for the other one. The soft bud blushes as he tugs at it, rubs it, makes it harden at his touch. The lace has been pushed down. As the cups of her brassiere hang uselessly beneath her bosom, there is nothing stopping him from grabbing a hold of her heavy breasts and feeling them in his palms. “You shouldn’t wear a bra.”

“I wanted to look good for you,” Daenerys pants.

Jon flicks her nipples one last time as he grunts: “You look good naked.” Then he pushes his hands into the fur of her coat, and he lets it fall down her shoulders alongside the straps of her brassiere. As her body is exposed to his eyes, so is it to his lips - he leans in, and he kisses her. First, hard, on the lips, his tongue pressing its way into her mouth, forcing her to accept his laps and taste as he drowns her senses in the scent of him. He licks her way down her chin, her neck, into the depth of her collarbone. Further, leaning forward in the chair, pushing Daenerys back as her breasts rise to his mouth.

Jon licks her nipples with the teasing tip of his tongue until she’s moaning. By the time he’s sucked her in between his lips, her hands have found their way to her cunt. He sees it, just for a second, how her fingers brush down across the wet line of her pants. Then he pulls back, and he gives her cheek a light slap with his hand. _“Bad girl.”_

“Uh!” Daenerys’ lips purse from the pain, but her hand still lingers at her cunt, her fingertips embedded between her labia. “I’m sorry Sir, but I’m _so wet.”_

“Is that an excuse?” Jon asks, slapping her other cheek as well.

Daenerys moans and shakes her head. Her silver hair bobs around her shoulders. “No, Sir, but it’s true - I’m _so wet.”_

“Stand up.” Jon lets go of Daenerys as she scoots to her feet. Her legs shiver. Her feet are uncertain in the heels. As she straightens up before him, her coat falling completely to the floor, she looks a gorgeous mess, he thinks:

tangled hair, smeared lipstick, red cheeks, hard nipples, askew brassiere, wet cunt, pink knees.

Jon has a sip of his bourbon as he twirls a finger in the air. “Turn around.”

Daenerys bites her lower lip as she watches him with impatience, but she does as told; she turns, revealing her bare, large behind to him. The red string of her pants have disappeared in between her fleshy buttocks. When Jon drags at the elastic band, it snaps back onto her skin with a loud crack. The sound makes his cock throb.

The air in the room is heating up. When Jon places his warm hands on her buttocks, he can feel the goosebumps melt away at his touch. He pinches her. He strokes her. He feels the entirety of her behind, every inch and every crevice, from the light perspiration beneath her buttocks to the peachy fuzz between her cheeks. When he spreads them, he sees her pink, tight asshole just on the other side of the string, the fabric barely kept in place.

“What did you think about,” he asks as he lifts his hand, “when you masturbated?” He lands a firm slap on her cheek. Daenerys gasps as her behind wobbles, and she straightens up even more, as if standing at attention.

“I told you, Sir,” she replies innocently, “I thought about you.”

“And what,” Jon asks, lifting his hand again before landing a harder slap on her cheek, “was I doing in your fantasy?”

Daenerys pants. As Jon continues to caress her cheek one moment, then spank her ass the next, she is starting to grow red. The blush creeps from her face down her neck, and her hands jitter at her sides, ashamed at her own reaction. She was wet. Now, she is soaked - her juices run clear down her thighs as Jon abuses her behind, ensuring her skin grows quite pink.

When she doesn’t speak, Jon thrusts his hand in between her legs and covers her cunt with his fingers as he demands: _“Tell me.”_

“Oh God!” Daenerys’ legs scoot apart, allowing Jon more space to touch her. As she tries to concentrate, his hand rubs and circles her clit, the nub hard and excited behind the thin fabric of her pants. “Oh God, okay, uhm, so, uhm-” she stutters.

Jon grabs a hold of her hip with his free hand, drags her closer, forces her to edge her way backwards between his legs. His breath hovers her ass. As his fingers curl in around her pants and sink between her labia, he repeats: _“Tell me.”_

Daenerys whines: “You were licking me, Sir. You were licking me and filling me with your tongue, Sir.”

“Filing your cunt?” Jon asks. He already knows the answer - but he wants to hear her say it.

As Daenerys speaks, her voice is painfully embarrassed: “Yes, Sir - and my ass.”

Jon withdraws his fingers from her cunt, making her sob in desperation, and he lands a spank on her behind as he says: “Bend over and grab your ankles.”

Daenerys does as instructed: she leans over, her hands brushing down her body to her knees, and she flushes bright red as she grabs at her ankles, presenting her blushing, spread behind to Jon. There is nowhere for her to hide - as he wriggles the pants down to hang at her knees, she is exposed; from her pink, wet labia to her small, clenched asshole.

Jon admires her for a moment as he sips his drink. The bourbon is sweet and strong on his tongue. He empties the glass. He puts it aside. Then he spreads her buttocks and sinks his face into her heat.

Daenerys tastes of _sex_ \- Jon can think of no other way to describe it. As he runs his tongue across her labia, he collects her juices on his lips, and he uses them to slicken his way from the edge of her cunt to the tightness of her asshole. She shivers and moans at his licks, and her voice makes his cock throb so desperately that he can’t help but repeat his movements a few times over. Again and again, he drags his tongue from her cunt to her ass, and Daenerys quivers before him, unsteady on her legs, and needy all the same.

By the time Jon’s tongue sinks into her ring of muscles, he is rock hard, and Daenerys is so on edge that she almost stumbles backwards into his face in desperation for his touch. He holds her in place, his strong hands sunk into the flesh of her buttocks as he licks and kisses and laps his way into her ass. He fills her with his wet tongue. She tastes of soap, and cunt, and of woman. The scents of her coax Jon’s tastebuds and flood his mouth, and he greedily traces her ring with his lips, ensuring every crevice is slick with his drool.

Daenerys is moaning. Her voice is breathless, and full of lust. As Jon’s hand sinks in between her legs to finger her cunt whilst his tongue continues to devour her ass, she almost can’t stay standing. Her knees buckle. Her eyes roll back. Jon can feel her orgasm building as he thrusts two fingers into her tight wetness.

“Do you want to come?” Jon asks, earning himself a whine from Daenerys as he circles her clit with his thumb.

_“Yes,”_ she sobs. Her hands are clinging onto her ankles so tightly that her knuckles are growing white.

Jon chuckles and flicks his tongue around her ass. “What do we say, girl?” he asks, filling her cunt with a third finger.

Daenerys begs: _“Yes please,_ Sir, oh _please!”_

\- and it is all Jon needs to hear. With knowing fingers, he circles her clit roughly as his tongue enters her ass one more time, and he feels her muscles clench down around him as an orgasm shivers through her body. It starts at her cunt, her labia tugging in, closing around his fingers, dragging him further into her. Next he feels it on his tongue, her asshole clenching, squeezing every ounce of wetness from his mouth as her muscles pulsate.

Then, she collapses forward, weakly falling onto her hands, her knees hitting the softness of her coat as she gives in to the throbbing pleasure of her cunt. She is still panting as her nose sinks into the fur, her lipstick leaving marks on the white pelt. _“Fuck,”_ she moans, and Jon, watching her shaking, pink ass and tasting her juices on his moustache, leans back into his chair, pours himself another bourbon, and agrees:

“Fuck.” He is so hard that even the soft cotton of his boxers has started to feel too tight. As Daenerys gasps for air, he drowns his throat in a big gulp of the alcohol, slams his glass back onto the table, and pulls himself free of his underwear. “Come here,” he says, his voice warm and breathless, and he watches impatiently as Daenerys scrambles around on her hands and knees, her body still trembling when she presents her mouth to his fat cock. _“Suck.”_

Daenerys goes to work. Her plump, red lips stretch wide open to accommodate his thick cockhead, and her small tongue wraps around the pulsating vein on his length, teasing it as she fills her mouth with his girth.

She is tight, and wet, and weak. Jon can see how her eyes are still glazed from her orgasm, and he uses the moment to gain further access to her small mouth. His hand dips into her hair, and he wraps her locks around his fingers and holds her tight as he starts bobbing her head up and down, up and down. The sound from her lips is wet. Drool and precum run down the length of Jon’s cock as Daenerys lets him fuck her mouth with quick, shallow thrusts. It starts foaming at her lips. To Jon, it’s the most pleasing sight of the evening.

As Daenerys wakes back up from her pleasure, so does her mouth. Soon, her hands are at his legs, and her lips start sucking and tugging at his length, applying pressure to his fat girth as he starts rubbing his cockhead to the back of her mouth. She gags. Wetness cling onto her upper-lip. Still, she doesn’t pull back, not even when Jon’s hand in her hair becomes more forceful, more demanding. Not even when his hips jerk up and his balls slap to her chin. Not even when he pushes his way into her throat, filling her with his member.

If she speaks, Jon doesn’t hear it. He rolls his head back with a groan as Daenerys’ tight throat clenches in around his cock. It is wet, and snug around his length, and the sounds of her gagging and coughing only spurs him on. His other hand enters her hair too. He splits her locks between his palms, keeps a tight grip on her, and then starts fucking her face with deep, needy thrusts.

Daenerys’ hair bobs around. Her lips ache and slicken with spit. When she coughs, it dribbles down her chin and settles on her bare chest, his precum wetting her cleavage. She is weak and willing to his strength, he knows, and he has to remind himself to allow her air. He gives it to her at the bare minimum; a quick breath around his cockhead, then back down. A snap of air through her nostrils as he eases out of her throat, and then back down.

By the time his orgasm has built up to almost a breaking point, sweat clinging onto his forehead and running down his abs, he finally lets her go. He slips from her mouth, hard and slick, and she coughs and gasps for air. Still she remains close, her lips ready, her eyes watching him for guidance.

Jon wriggles out of his boxers completely. He throws them aside before leaning back, wrestling a leg up over the armrest as he scoots his ass closer to the edge of the chair. His hard cock rests on his stomach as he grabs his bourbon and gulps it down. “Did you like being rimmed?” he asks her, watching her with dark eyes.

Daenerys nods and wipes her lips off in her hand. “Mh-hmm, yes Sir,” she says. Her voice is just a pant, a light puff of air, and he can barely hear her. But he can see the thrill in her eyes when he orders:

“Then show me how much you liked it,” and gestures for her to scooch back in.

Once more, Daenerys does as told. She grabs a hold of his knees and pushes his legs apart as she sinks her head in between his warm thighs. She licks at his balls, her tongue dragging across the rough skin before giving them a suck, and Jon could almost be tempted to just sink back into her warm mouth - if he didn’t know better was to come.

With his leg on the armrest, Daenerys has easy access to his ass. Jon sinks back into the soft armchair as he feels her tongue leave his balls, glide down the soft skin between his cock and his ass, and then, finally, flicker across his hole. It’s just once, a light peck from the tip of her tongue, but it feels fantastic.

“Ah, fuck,” Jon grunts, and his left hand closes more tightly around the glass of bourbon as the other sinks to his cock. He can barely touch himself; he’s so sensitive and on edge that he’s afraid a single squeeze will make him come. So he just lingers, his hand at his balls, as Daenerys’ tongue starts rimming him.

Her lips are plump, her tongue is small, and her mouth is wet. She uses all of her spittle to slicken his muscles, kissing her way around his tight entrance. It feels like a sloppy kiss on his cockhead, only more intimate, and Jon can’t help but to huff and groan as he scoots further down into the chair, trying to present more of himself to her.

Daenerys’ voice is innocent as she asks: “Am I doing well, Sir?” and Jon knows instinctively that she’s teasing him. She uses that same voice when she dominates him, his hands tied above his head and her cunt rocking across his cock as she asks stupid questions like: _do you like to fuck me?_

But he’s too deep into the sensation of pleasure to care, so he just says: “Keep going,” and Daenerys dutifully returns to his asshole and continues to rim him.

Jon drinks. Jon moans. Jon feels precum on his stomach as his cock stirs in need. He wants to come, desperately, with Daenerys’ little tongue inside of him, and her hand wrapped at his cock - like now, as her warm palm tightens around his girth and gives him a firm stroke, her tongue penetrating his ring of muscles. But he wants to fuck her even more.

So he slaps her hand away and pushes her head back, gasping in air as her wet tongue drags from between his buttocks. “Enough,” he says, as she stretches her neck, her mouth wide open for his cock to enter. He shakes his head. She snaps her lips shut, a small smile on her lips. “Enough.”

“Did I do something wrong, Sir?” she teases, her gaze slipping from his red, sweaty face to his stiff cock. As his hand sinks into her hair and strokes it, she adds: “I would love to taste your cum, Sir.”

“You fucking tease,” Jon says, and he gives her cheek a light slap as he gets back up. He immediately senses a passing of time; the darkness in the living room has grown thicker, and the orange light from the lamp seems stronger. His shadow dances on the wall as he steps around her kneeling body. If he wasn’t late before, he certainly is now, and he avoids checking the time on his watch as he grabs his trousers off the floor. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of the backpocket. As Daenerys watches him, he lights one and sighs out the smoke.

“May I have one?” she asks.

“Bad girls don’t get to smoke,” Jon says, flicking ashes into the air.

Daenerys licks her lips and cocks her head puzzled. “I’ve been good,” she says, “I even rimmed you, Sir. I did everything you asked.”

“Everything?” Jon muses. “Did you stop touching yourself when I told you to?”

Daenerys blushes. “It was a mistake, Sir,” she says.

“Mistakes cost.”

“How can I make it up to you, Sir?”

Jon narrows his eyes. He has another drag. The scent of smoke mixes with the bourbon in his mouth. It is gritty, and raw. “I got you something,” he says. “I meant to bring it over, but, well,” he shrugs, “looks like we’ll need it early.”

“Jewelry?” Daenerys jests, and she blinks in surprise when Jon says:

“Sort of.” He blows out smoke and points to the floor. “Stay here,” he instructs, before turning on his heels and trudging to the bedroom. The space is dark, but he searches his bedside table knowingly, grabbing a hold of a small, hard item wrapped in black chiffon. The mere feel of it makes his heartbeat quicken. He traces the shape of the toy beneath the paper as his other hand claims a bottle of lube, and when makes his way back to the living room it’s with hasty steps.

Daenerys is where he left her - kneeling, her hands on her legs, her heels sunk into the wet pelt of her coat. When he approaches, she eyes the item with interest. “What is it?” she asks.

“Lube,” Jon says and throws the bottle before her.

“No, _that,”_ Daenerys says, nodding at the package.

Jon walks behind her. He steps on either side of her legs, hovering her backside, his shadow falling starkly across her. When she tries to peer up at him, he clicks his tongue: “No peeking,” and she dutifully lowers her head and listens as he starts tearing the chiffon apart.

The first item is soft. Jon pulls the fabric free of the paper and gently drags it over Daenerys’ eyes. As the straps snap around her ears, she says:

“A blindfold?” Her voice is disappointed, though she tries not to let it show. “We’ve tried blindfolds before.”

“We have?” Jon asks, feigning surprise as he continues to tear at the paper. “I guess I really messed up then, huh?” The wrapping falls to the floor. As Daenerys stammers for a kind response, Jon reaches in over her and smirks as he presses a strap of cool, thick leather to her neck. The moment it buckles closed at her nape, her lips pop in a gasp.

“Is that-”

“- a collar?” Jon licks his lips as Daenerys hands reach up to touch the leather. Her nails tug at the thick band. Against her small neck, it looks large and heavy. “Bad girls can’t be trusted to handle themselves.”

“Does it have a lead?” Daenerys asks. Her voice is no longer disappointed, but full of tense glee. As Jon unrolls a long leather lead and snaps it onto the golden ring at the front, Daenerys whispers: “That’s amazing.”

“It’s a punishment,” Jon reminds her, but he feels a heat in the pit of his stomach. Seeing his woman on the floor, suckling on her lips with excitement as she fondles her own constraints, is making his cock jerk. He wraps the lead around his hand and jerks her forward, making her fall onto all fours with a gasp. “Now apologise.”

“I’m sorry!” Daenerys says at once.

Jon rolls the cigarette between his lips as he steps in front of her. With the blindfold on, she can’t see his hard cock hovering right above her head. “What for?” he asks, blowing smoke out the sides of his lips.

“For touching myself.”

“When?”

“Earlier,” she says. Her head is turning, trying to determine where Jon is. As a flicker of ashes falls on her face, she rolls her head back to face him. Her eyes are covered behind the black fabric, and her nose is barely peeking out. But her lips, plump and welcoming, are open wide, and Jon knows he’ll need nothing else. “Earlier,” she continues, “when I was on my knees, feeling _so wet.”_

“Ahh,” Jon says, and he tightens his hold on the lead, forcing Daenerys to crawl closer to him. Her silver hair brushes to his legs. Her cheek finds comfort at his knee, nestled close as she licks and pecks his skin. “I was good to you, wasn’t I?”

“You were,” Daenerys whimpers, licking her way up his thigh, her mouth seeking his cock. When Jon steps backwards, she follows, her tongue lolling out as she searches the heated air for him. “You licked me _so well,_ Sir.”

“But you’re mistaken,” Jon says. As Daenerys’ little tongue brushes to his balls, he pulls her tight by the lead, forcing himself between her warm, wet lips. She suckles him in, fills her mouth with him, and Jon, watching her as he smokes, scoffs: “Apologise.”

“Whath fhor?” Daenerys asks, her mouth heavy with his balls. Her nose rubs against the backside of his cock.

“For touching yourself at work.”

Daenerys moans around his balls as he tightens the lead again, dragging her further off the floor. Her hands climb his legs as she kneels. “Shorry,” she says, “shorry, Shir.”

“I tell you when you can touch yourself.”

“Yhes, Shir.”

“Suck my cock.”

Daenerys’ lips drag alongside his vein, around his head, and then sink down his girth. As she takes him in, Jon loosens his hold, allowing her to rest on her hands, her back arched, her buttocks slowly swaying in the air as she sucks. Her skin is still tainted from his earlier spanking, but the red has subsided and become a faint blush of pink. As if bothered by the sight, Jon pushes himself further into Daenerys’ mouth as he reaches in over her and lands a harsh slap on her ass.

“Shir!” Daenerys gags around his cock, but it only makes Jon raise his hand and slap her again. Her buttocks wriggle. Her skin flushes red once more. He pushes himself into her throat, making her nose nestle at the soft bedding of his black hair. Once he is nice and snug in her mouth, her body weak to his biddings, he spits on his hand, reaches in between her buttocks, and uses his spittle to push into her tight hole.

All Daenerys’ sounds are muffled around the thick girth of Jon’s cock. But he can sense her moaning, as a vibration agaist the underside of his member, and he can feel her body suckling him inside, a second finger easily stretching her out. By the time she is choking and drooling onto the floor, her body has given in and started rocking itself back onto his fingers.

That’s when Jon withdraws and steps away. “Greedy girl,” he says and clicks his tongue, watching as Daenerys sinks onto her elbows, gasping for breath. His cock bobs in the air, hard and red, and he gives himself a satisfied stroke as he takes a drag of his cigarette. By the time exhales, she’s back on all fours, her wet, puffy mouth open and begging:

“Sir.”

“Find me,” Jon says, blowing smoke down at her, and she whirs her head in the direction of the scent, crawling forward. He loosens more of the lead, making it harder for her to know where it goes, and he steps away, making her crawl in vain. “Over here,” he calls as he creaks around her, and Daenerys turns and reaches into the air, her fingertips only just brushing to his legs. “Do you want to be fucked?”

“Yes, Sir,” Daenerys pleads. Her voice is raspy, and desperate. As she shuffles across the floor, Jon can see a wet trail of juices dragging behind her. She is so soaked that she’s dripping. It makes him smirk.

“Do you want to come on my cock?”

“Oh fuck, yes, Sir,” Daenerys begs, her voice even more eager.

“Then _find me.”_

Daenerys crawls. Jon walks. The lead whips in the air between them. Whenever she’s just about to grab a hold of him, he moves once more, enjoying her desperate sighs. He never knew how thrilling it would be to see his woman scrambling on the floor for his cock, but she is stunning:

nude - _almost,_ the brassiere still hanging by her ribcage, the pants stuck around one of her ankles, her heels still sturdy on her small feet as she moves about, the tips dragging black lines into the wooden floorboards. Her lipstick has been rubbed off. Her hair has become a mess atop her head. She is messy. She is perfect.

She is still, panting and aching, and on all fours as she tries to listen for him. Jon pops his cigarette into his empty glass of bourbon and lets it die with a hiss. As she cranes her neck toward it, he tip-toes around her, kneels in between her legs, and takes a steady hold of his cock. The lead slips over her back. As the leather tickles her spine, she turns her head to the side.

“You’re behind me,” she whispers.

Jon grabs a hold of her waist, leans in over her, and grunts: _“Found me.”_ Then, with a swift jerk from his hips, he sinks into her wet cunt and fills her with his cock.

As Jon’s member stretches out Daenerys’ tight inners, she moans in shock and falls down onto her elbows, the sheer force of his body too much for her to handle. Her red nails dig in between the floorboards. Her forehead sinks onto the cool wood. She whimpers as Jon pulls out, and she moans as he pushes back in, jerking her body forward and making the lead snap on her back.

“Oh _fuck!”_ she pants, “Oh _shit!”_

Jon can barely manage a sound. Daenerys’ cunt is as tight and wet as her throat, and her muscles tug at him nicely, wrapping every inch of his length in her heat. When he draws back, he feels the wet, gentle pull of her labia as she reluctantly lets him go, and when he sinks back in, he senses the shiver of her inners as they stretch to accomodate his fat girth once more. She is warm, and she is wet.

And she is willing - with a tug from the lead, he forces her back onto her hands, and he gives her behind a rough slap as she sobs with pleasure. “Who said you could rest?” he asks, his voice rough.

“Ohh, _fuck!”_ is all she manages to reply. He is fucking her with such force that her whole body jiggles at every jerk from his hips. Her breasts sway. Her hair bobs. Her ass pushes flatly to his stomach again and again, dampening the wet sounds from her cunt. But he can still hear it - the soppy, dirty noise of his cock sinking into her heat. And he can feel it - her juices running down his member, settling in his hair, marking him with her scent.

As Daenerys starts falling forward again, Jon lands a series of harsh, greedy spanks on her behind. “Stay up,” he commands.

“I _can’t,”_ Daenerys moans, her nails clawing at the wood. “Oh fuck, I _can’t!”_

“You can,” Jon grunts, and he reaches in over her body, swings the lead over her head, and pushes the leather in between her lips. He uses it to drag her back, and Daenerys gasps, her head forced up and her upper-body lifting as he uses the strap to keep her steady. He leans in. His lips are by her blushing ear. When he adds: “And you _will,”_ she sobs in response.

“Oh fhuck, Shir,” she cries around the lead, her tongue battling with the leather, her teeth gnawing in around it, “oh fhuck, dhon’t _sthop!”_

Jon takes her harder. With the strap between her lips and wrapped in his hands, he can hold her up with ease whilst claiming her cunt with deep, rough strokes. Daenerys’ sex sobs around him. His cock slickens her with precum. He is no longer sure what is making her thighs sticky - her juices or his drool or his seed - he only knows that by the time his balls slap to her skin and he nestles deeply into her, his cock rocking around her inners, it’s all she can take.

Daenerys comes, her orgasm trapping him deep inside of her cunt, and she gags words he doesn’t understand around the leather, her drool dripping freely. He wonders what she looks like without the blindfold - eyes rolled back, makeup smeared, her mind closing down as shivers of pleasure ripples through her sex, making her lose herself for the second time that eve.

Jon is on edge. He knows he could come, spilling his cum inside of her cunt - he has worked for it, he thinks, and he deserves it. But it is not what he wants.

As Daenerys sinks weakly onto the floor, Jon withdraws from her, his cock still hard and needy. He doesn’t even have to hold on to the lead anymore - Daenerys’ teeth are still tightly clamped in around the leather. As he lets go, she suckles on it mindlessly, her cheek flat against the cold wood. “Ohhh…” she moans as Jon’s heat leaves her, his hands scrambling the floor. “Ohh, fuck, Jon, that was-”

He lands a blow on her arse. She whines in surprise. “Sir,” he says.

Daenerys’ knees drag together as she curls up, her hands sinking in between her breasts. “Sir,” she says, her voice breathless and teasing. “Is that what you want me to call you from now on? _Sir. Sir Jon.”_ She laughs.

Jon ignores her. He has found what he was looking for - the lube. As Daenerys spits out the leather and reaches for her blindfold, he pops it open and slickens his cock with its content. By the time her violet eyes peer out at him, hazed and content, he is hard and wet with lube.

Daenerys’ gaze slips from his face to his cock. Her lips part in quiet shock. “Did you not-” She reaches between her legs. Her fingers sink into the wetness of her juices. “Shit, is that just me?”

“Did you think I was done?” Jon asks wryly. He licks his lips as he climbs in over her, his rough hand pushing her onto her stomach. As his fingers sink in between her buttocks, Daenerys’ gasps:

“You want to take me again?”

Jon pushes two wet fingers into her ass. Already weak and spent, Daenerys welcomes him easily, a whiny moan lingering on her lips. “I want to take you,” Jon says, “and I want to make you come.”

_“Fuck.”_ Daenerys lets go of a shivering breath as Jon’s fingers thrusts into her, wetting her asshole with the lube. “Fuck, Jon, I-” _Slap._ Daenerys moans as Jon’s hand spanks her ass. “Fuck, _Sir,”_ she breathes, at once understanding that the play isn’t over, “I-I am not sure I can.”

“You’re not sure?” Jon asks. As his fingers fill her ass, he reaches his other hand in between her legs and feels her cunt. It is soaked, and quivering, her labia tugging themselves tight around her entrance. “You feel wet.”

“Oh fuck,” Daenerys breathes as Jon’s hands fondles her, fills her, touches her sensitive areas. Her cheek is against the floor, her ass prodded slightly into the air to allow him the space to move around. She aches. She feels good. She whispers: “I’m already going sore.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Daenerys suckles on her lower lip. She shakes her head. “No, Sir,” she says before bashing her eyes open. Her violet peers up at him from between her smudged, dirty lashes. As she rolls over, spreading her legs for him and says: “I want you to take what belongs to you,” - Jon knows that if he hadn’t been holding back for this long already, he would’ve come at those mere words.

Jon grabs a hold of Daenerys’ legs and pushes her knees up toward her chest as he admires her asshole. The pink, tight bud is wet, just like her cunt which seems to have come back alive. Fresh juices run down along her labia and in between her legs as Jon positions himself. By the time he pushes into her, he’s not sure if it’s the lube or her juices that’s easing his way inside. He only knows that it takes just a rock of his hips for her ring of muscle to give in.

As Jon’s cockhead is engulfed in Daenerys’ heat, he gasps and rolls his head back. His black curls brush across his sweaty face, and his hard fingertips dig into her thighs, urging her legs further back as he continues to sink inside of her. It’s not their first time doing anal, but the sounds Daenerys makes are always as sweet and teasing as had she never experienced it before:

her lips, at his ear, begging and pleading nonsense as he fills her tight body, his cock pushing her open with sheer force.

“Ohh, Jon!” Daenerys moans, her tongue brushing to his ear as she gasps to correct herself: _“Sir!”_ Her arms are around his neck. Her legs are shivering at his hips.

Jon grunts as he edges his way into her before rocking out, loosening her up with short, shallow thrusts. She is warm. She is snug. She is squeezing him and pulling at him, her body suckling on him as well as her mouth. As Jon sinks his weight down on top of her, his cock penetrating her deeper, Daenerys’ heels dig into the curve of his back as she urges him close.

“Oh fuck, yes,” she whimpers.

“You like that?” Jon groans. His breaths are short, and his words come out sharp, harsh, like slaps against her skin. But she seems to enjoy it, her head rolling back, exposing the tight collar on her neck. “Do you want me to fuck you harder?”

“Yes, Sir, yes _please!”_ she sobs, and Jon digs his fingers in around her collar, taking a hard hold of her as he rolls his hips back and then forcefully jerks back inside of her.

Daenerys sounds are stuck in her throat, the leather and Jon’s fingers keeping her noises in, and her lips part quietly in a needy gasp, her eyes fluttering to the ceiling. _“Ooh!”_

“That’s a good girl,” Jon praises her. He can taste sweat on his lips. It could be him. It could be her. As he rocks into her again, harshly, pushing apart her legs and dragging her head to his by the collar, they seem to become one anyway. In their ragged breath, and in their dark stares, their eyes hazed with lust as they peer at each other. The leather between Jon’s fingers groan. As he tugs again, her neck blushes pink. “Do you like when I take you?”

_“Yes,”_ Daenerys says, though her word is but a cough, her lips shivering as he thrusts into her ass.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

_“Yes!”_

Jon’s hand slips between their bodies, his fingers dragging across their sweaty frames, before sinking across Daenerys wet, needy cunt. As he fucks her ass with hard, deep jerks, he starts rubbing her clit in quick circles. It does the trick: as Jon’s balls pull, and his hard cock overcomes the need to finally get release, Daenerys succumbs to her third orgasm. Her body rocks forward. Her lips part in a sob. Her eyes roll back, the lack of air intensifying the pleasure in her body, and as her ass tightly clamps in around Jon, all he can do is give in.

He comes, hard, with a ragged groan as he fills her tight hole with his seed. His hand on the collar is as if stuck, dragging her forward as he rolls his balls to her skin, ensuring every last drop of his cum is fed to her heat. Then, as quickly as the pleasure rippled his body, it releases him from its grasp.

Jon’s hand lets go of the collar, and Daenerys’ head rolls back, her lips gasping for air as she’s finally free to breathe once more. As Jon sinks down on top of her, his soft cock slipping from her ass, she can barely find the energy to hug him. But they snuggle up, with whatever strength they’ve got, staying close as they both bask in the blissful feel of their orgasm.

When Daenerys finally speaks, it’s with her lips at his neck, tasting his beating pulse: “Are you okay, Sir?”

Jon chuckles. He runs his fingers through her hair, gently prying her knots apart. “I’m done,” he says, his voice so weak it makes him laugh. “I am absolutely done.”

“So you’re Jon now?”

“I’m Jon now.”

“Mh-hmm.” Daenerys traces his chest with her fingertips, her lips slightly pursed. “What a shame. I quite liked _Sir._ He seems like a man who knows what he wants.”

“Is that so?” Jon mumbles, eyeing her curiously. His gaze slips to her cunt - pink and puffy - but before he can reach down, she grabs his hand.

“Sore,” she says sternly, and the pointed look she gives him makes him pull away.

“What if I’m Sir again?”

“Still sore,” Daenerys says, nestling into his neck once more. Her hand slips around his waist, onto his back, gently massaging his spine, and Jon mimics her movements as he holds her, his palms brushing her back and ass.

“Was this what you expected when you came over?” he asks, and Daenerys chuckles:

“Not quite so many orgasms.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No, but perhaps you should be - you missed your _family dinner.”_

Jon blinks. He had completely forgotten about why he got ready earlier. He peers at the time. His wristwatch shows-

“Fucking hell, we were at it for _an hour?”_

“You did use me a lot,” Daenerys points out. “My mouth is sore too.” She pauses. “Again, not complaining.”

“Fuck.” Jon shakes his head as he sinks onto his back and stares at the ceiling. He can see it: Catelyn, sipping her second bottle of wine with red anger on her cheeks, snapping: _that bastard is good for nothing!_ “My brother just got engaged.”

“He did?” Daenerys rolls onto her back as she peers at him. “Congratulations?”

“That was the meal,” Jon says, clapping his hands to his face as he groans. “I was meant to be there and celebrate with him.”

“I thought we celebrated rather well,” Daenerys says, tickling his stomach before grabbing at her collar. “Look - you even got _me_ a ring.” She teasingly pulls at the golden ring where the lead is attached.

Jon wants to scold her. He ends up laughing. “I suppose I did,” he says, reaching over to stroke the metal.

“I’m sorry,” Daenerys says, “for you missing the meal. I would’ve picked a different date had I known. Is it too late to call them?”

“I suppose not. Dinners with my parents tend to last, well, more than two hours.”

“Then you should go,” Daenerys decides and pats his chest as if the choice has been made for him. “I’ll just use your shower and be on my way. I still have some clothes in your wardrobe, don’t I?”

Jon watches her tiredly as she gets up. There she stands, his gorgeous woman, someone he’s fucked for two years and yet never introduced. His secret, his dirty nightly meetings, the reason why he can’t find satisfaction anywhere else. He licks his teeth. He closes his eyes. He can’t believe himself when he says: “Why don’t you come.”

Daenerys sends him an odd look. She’s correcting her earrings, one of them barely clinging on to her lobe anymore. “Come? To see your parents?”

“My brother, mostly,” Jon says, “and his fiancee. They’re nice people.”

“Are you sure?” Daenerys asks, quirking her brows. “What would I be?”

“I don’t know,” Jon says with a shrug.

“A friend? A girlfriend?” she presses.

“How about,” Jon throws his hands out in desperation, “someone I just gave a ring to.”

Daenerys hand instinctively closes at the collar, and she laughs: “You’re full of shit.”

“And you’re the only one who tolerates it,” Jon nods as he too gets up. He holds out his hand, and asks: “So will you come?”

Daenerys peers into his eyes, a small smile of perplexion on her lips, but she takes his hand, and she nods. “I’ll come - if you can wait for me to brush out my hair.”

“My parents don’t take _that_ long,” Jon jests, but he feels warm all the same when Daenerys sets off toward his bathroom. As the sound of the shower turning on echoes through the house, he sinks down to sit in his armchair, lights another cigarette, and thinks: _one hour is not so late, I can come up with an excuse._ Of course, as his eyes settle on Daenerys’ discarded panties, the fabric of them shining wet in the orange light, he feels his cock stir and thinks: _make that two hours._ He gets up. He walks toward the bathroom. He asks:

“Space for one more?” and the shower door slips open as Daenerys laughs:

“Come in, Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Right guys, I wanted to end this month on a bang - quite literally. I let go of all my inhibitions for this one and just said: "Fuck it - Jon will have to control his boner for an hour." Guy's got stamina!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this month of fics and art as much as we did! We are going to take a small break, but we have plenty of ideas lined up already, so you'll surely see us around. My main priority for November will be to finish "Burden of Love", and then I'll start working on some of the stories that I didn't get around to this month. There's a spooky one, a sexy one, and a heart-breaker on my list.. let's see what I get to first!
> 
> Thank you so, so much for your support, for your comments, for your feedback, and for just being great Jonerys folks. It's been a blast!


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